


A Second Chance at First Impressions

by Cobrilee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art Student Stiles Stilinski, Barebacking, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Come Eating, Comeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Model Derek Hale, Rimming, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 22:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Derek grew up with the world's most embarrassing soulmark, which is honestly not the best first impression his soulmate could make. Then he meets the guy, and all of a sudden the soulmark doesn't matter quite so much after all.





	A Second Chance at First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mad-madam-m and leslieknopeismyshiningstar for the beta read and artemis69 for the inspiration! This started out as something entirely different than what it ended up at, but I'm pleased with it anyway. :)

If there’s one thing Derek hates, it’s talking about his soul mark. It’s been the bane of his existence since he learned what it actually meant, and despite the fact that his family is more than aware of it and what it says about the type of person he’ll end up with, the thought of anyone mentioning it to him makes him absurdly uncomfortable. Cora teases him about it whenever she wants to distract him in a fight, and Laura gleefully announces it to anyone who doesn’t already know about it whenever the subject is brought up. He’s mortified that when the nurse handed him over as a newborn, his parents got to read that his soulmate thinks his dick is a work of art.

Clearly it wasn’t at that stage of his life, but at least his parents are fully aware that adult Derek has a masterpiece of a penis.

It makes him wonder how he’ll meet his soulmate. After all, how many times in life does someone get a chance to see your genitalia without first having said “hello” to you, at least? He doesn’t like to think that there will be a point at which he will be naked in front of someone he’s never spoken to, and he really,  _ really _ doesn’t like to think that his parents have had that thought floating around in their brains for the last twenty-some years as well. 

Cora’s theory is that he’ll be drunk. Laura's is that he'll be a stripper. His mother takes another sip of her martini every time one of them mentions it. 

Given all of that, accepting a position at the local college to be a model for one of their art classes should have given him every answer he was looking for. It does not. At least not until the third semester.

The third semester, which starts the month after his twenty-sixth birthday, is when he first has misgivings about what he’s doing. Derek’s always elected not to inform his family about his side job, mostly because he knows they’ll give him endless amounts of grief. Or his sisters will, at any rate. His mother will simply reach for a bigger bottle of gin. It's not his family, however, that makes him think the job was maybe not the best choice. 

Two sessions into the beginning of the third semester he walks into a class half-full of sleepy students, nods at Celeste, the instructor who took over halfway through the previous semester, and begins the normal process of disrobing. There’s a cushioned stool for him sitting in front of the half-circle of easels, and he eases down onto it while simultaneously arranging his limbs in a way that gives the artists plenty to work with while not killing his back in the process.

He know they’re working on lines and length today, so he stretches out as much as possible in his seated position. Fortunately for him the stool has a back, so he leans into it and stretches one leg down to the bottom rung, while drawing the other foot up and hooking his heel over the second rung. His flaccid cock falls between his thighs, almost hidden in the dense nest of black hair surrounding it, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

It’s when Derek hears the choked gasp that things start to get interesting. He shifts until he spots the kid with long limbs and messy, finger-combed brown hair gawking at him. There’s a soft blush across the crests of his mole-dusted cheeks and his whiskey-gold eyes lock onto Derek’s before dancing away. 

Derek knows what he looks like, and this isn’t the first time a student has found him attractive enough to be obvious. He’s been asked out before, but he always turns them down with a gentle-but-firm explanation that he doesn’t mess around with the art students. It usually pacifies them, although he’d had one girl get insistent enough that he’d had to mention it to Harrison, Celeste’s predecessor. The girl had been transferred to another class, and that was the end of it.

This guy, however. He instinctively knows this guy is going to test his rule. 

As the class progresses he settles into it, just like he always does. He relaxes enough to let his gaze skim over the students, only allowing himself to land briefly on the kid with the honey eyes. It isn’t surprising that those eyes are focusing on him with a studied intensity, but it doesn’t seem like the guy notices his looks at all anymore. He chews on his lower lip as he glances from Derek to his easel, brows drawing together into a frown and then smoothing out when he gets something right. 

Derek tries not to look at him too often, but he finds his gaze being drawn back time and time again. The fourth time it does, the kid glances up at his eyes. Upon finding Derek looking right at him, instead of blushing or looking away again, he winks. 

His cock stirs. 

It's happened before, and he always ignores it. The students are either well-trained or polite enough that they ignore it, too. 

This guy is neither well-trained nor polite, which is evidenced by the fact that he drops his gaze to Derek's lap. Derek has to look away, has to force himself to think about things that are meaningless, so that he doesn't end up with a full-blown erection. 

Class mercifully ends not long after, and he stretches once he's finally allowed to break pose. A muted groan reaches his ears and he searches until he finds him again; when he does, he sees that his eyes are bright with desire. 

“C’mon, Stiles, it's your turn to pay for coffee, ” the blonde sitting beside him reminds him as she packs away her art supplies. 

The guy--Stiles--nods absentmindedly as he does the same, his gaze lingering on Derek. Derek looks away and slides on his robe, and when he turns back, Stiles is gone. 

\-----

No amount of stern lectures Derek gives himself prepare him for the next session. Stiles looks a little more put-together the next time Derek sees him, although not much. His hair is still messy, still looks like he rolled out of bed and did nothing more than run his fingers through it, but this time he’s wearing tight, dark-washed jeans and a slim-fitting light gray henley. It clings to his lithe form, the defined-but-not-bulging muscles of his arms, and ends at thick wrists, which taper off into long, spidery fingers that Derek resolutely refuses to imagine sliding into his ass.

Keeping the erection at bay is going to be an immense challenge.

Celeste has him posing face-down this time, thank God, and Derek stretches out along the pale cream couch set in front of the half-circle. His right leg is fully extended along the cushions; his left knee is dropped off the edge, pressing against the front of the couch while his toes dig into the floor. His foot arches, his calf muscles flex, and Derek tilts his head so he’s facing the students. He has his right arm at an angle underneath his head, his cheek on his hand, and he lets his gaze drift lazily until it lands on Stiles.

Stiles, whose cheeks are flushed, his eyes darting rapid-fire from Derek’s ass to his face to his foot, then back to his ass where they narrow in heavy focus, and his beautifully long fingers begin dancing over his easel.

Derek is grateful for the care he took when laying down, because his cock is trapped between the couch and his stomach. Every time Stiles’ eyes flit to his and he licks his lips, Derek can feel it harden until it’s throbbing. It’s agony, but in the most tantalizing way he’s ever experienced.

He wants the rest of the class to disappear, and he wants Stiles to slide off his stool, crossing the short space between the student side and the model side. He wants Stiles to slide lube-slicked fingers between his cheeks, teasing at his hole, slipping those gorgeous fingers inside him and thrusting leisurely, bringing Derek so close to the edge before backing off…

Reality comes crashing back in when he feels a few drops of pre-come spurt from his cockhead, and he’s mortified when he realizes that Celeste will see the evidence of his fantasies on her couch. With great effort, he pries his eyes open and pulls his mind out of thoughts of Stiles fucking into him.

Only to see that Stiles’ eyes are locked on him, wide and unblinking, and his mouth has fallen open as he breathes heavily.

Panic flares momentarily, before he rationalizes to himself that there’s no possible way that anyone can see how hard his cock is since it’s hidden by the couch. He’s stayed still otherwise; his legs are still in the same position, his arm is crooked under his head, his left arm trailing over the edge of the couch and his fingers brushing the cool concrete floor. 

He’s safe. No one knows he’s on the verge of coming just over the thought of one of the student’s fingers in his ass. 

Derek makes a solid effort to distract himself, to forget about the beautiful boy with the sinful hands and amber eyes, and wills his cock to go down. By the time class is over, he’s mostly successful. Still, he turns his head into his forearm as the students gather up their belongings and make their way out of class, and does his best to ignore the thought that Stiles might still be there, his eyes drifting over Derek’s naked backside, imagining letting his fingers follow the same path.

“Derek? Are you okay?”

Lifting his head, Derek isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed that the classroom is empty, save Celeste. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little drowsy from laying here with my eyes closed for so long.”

“I pay you to model, not to nap,” Celeste jokes as she begins clearing the easels, and Derek finally feels safe in sitting up. His cock is soft again, lying heavy between his thighs, but she’s seen him naked so many times that he doesn’t even think about it as he stands, grabbing for the jeans he placed behind the couch before laying down.

“Technically you don’t pay me at all,” he counters, smirking. “The school does.”

“It comes out of my class budget,” she shoots back, but there’s no rancor in her voice. They’ve become friends by this point, although not close friends. Derek has gone out with her and her girlfriend a few times, though he mostly sits at their table while she and Alicia dance. 

He glances down at the couch and is grateful that apparently the precome spilled into the space between two of the cushions, because there are no visibly soiled spots. “I have to head out, I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Celeste waves him off, and Derek beelines for his car. He needs to get home and jerk off in the worst way. 

\-----

When Tuesday rolls around, Derek is anxious. There’s no way his luck will hold and he’ll be allowed to pose with his dick hidden again. Celeste wants the students to get used to drawing anatomy, especially if they never have before. 

Something tells him Stiles has a lot of experience with male anatomy, even if it has nothing to do with drawing. 

As expected, the second he steps foot into the classroom, Celeste torpedoes his hopes that he’ll be able to get by without showing off his erection again. “Derek, I want you to splay out today,” she tells him; she’s busy pulling out supplies and doesn’t notice his grimace. “I want them to see all the hidden parts that most people usually don’t see. Your armpits, the creases of your hip and groin, etcetera.”

It’s not an unusual request; she’d had him do it the previous semester, and Derek hadn’t minded then. He hadn’t had any reason to feel that he was being exposed. Now, though, with Stiles watching? Derek can’t imagine having those eyes on him without feeling like his entire soul is on display.

He takes a deep breath and shucks his clothes, pulling on his robe mere moments before students start filtering into the room behind him. He nods at some of them as they give him friendly smiles or greeting nods of their own. Then Stiles steps through the door, followed by the blonde from the first class, and Derek’s mouth goes dry.

He is not going to survive this.

For his first pose, Derek lays down on the same couch from the previous week. He’s on his right side, facing the class, and he tips his left knee until it’s pointing straight up while his right knee remains flat against the couch. He’s acutely aware of his dick, which is soft and lying across his thigh, and he tells himself it will stay that way.

Placing his hand on his head, he lifts his elbow in the air to expose the tuft of black hair in his armpit, and he hears a faint whimper. He can’t help how his gaze darts straight to Stiles, who is looking at the underside of his arm and chewing his bottom lip. Derek’s cock twitches.

Stiles swallows, hard, and Derek has to swallow back a groan of his own. For fuck’s sake, modeling has never been sexual before, not in the slightest. Not for him, not for the students. His previous physical reactions were based on a light breeze, a fleeting thought of a previous lover, things of no consequence that were easily discarded, meaning there was never anything more than a basic stirring in his dick. Now he’s fighting a raging hard-on every class.

He might have to tell Celeste that he needs to take the rest of the semester off.

When she calls for him to change poses, Derek takes a steadying breath before shifting into an upright position. Facing the class, he spreads his legs wide and leans back, elongating his torso as he puts his hands behind his head. His elbows are pointed outward and his head is tipped slightly back, exposing his throat as he swallows past the lump of anxiety that’s bloomed there.

His cock hangs between his spread thighs, but he’s resigned to the fact that it won’t be hanging for long.

A pale pink flush spreads across Stiles’ cheeks, but Derek can see that he’s paying more attention to his drawing than to inappropriate thoughts of Derek’s anatomy. Or he thinks he does, but when his own gaze drops, he can see the beginnings of a bulge in Stiles’ even-tighter-than-last-week jeans. 

With a quiet, barely-there sigh, Derek gives up on willing back his erection. He can feel his dick stiffen at the thought that Stiles is hard from their silent interaction, and he tips his head back just a little further so the students’ expressions--and Celeste’s--are out of his view. He doesn’t want to see their reaction to his ill-timed hard-on. 

There are no giggles or whispers, and for that he’s grateful. He knows he’s going to hear it from Celeste later, but for now he can pretend that there’s nothing abnormal about the situation. The problem is, without the grounding image of a studio full of art students, he’s catapulted back into fantasies of Stiles easing between his thighs and burying his own cock in Derek’s tight ass. His heart races and he can feel choked groans bubbling up in his throat at the brief flash his brain helpfully supplies, a quicksilver vision of Stiles gripping Derek’s knees as he pistons forward, his cock slamming deep.

When a drop of pre-come slides from the tip of his dick down his shaft, quickly followed by another, Derek prays for the earth to swallow him whole. He’s humiliated by how far it’s gone, how fast, and he dreads the conversation he’s going to have to have with Celeste after the class is over. 

“Okay class, good session today. Don’t forget we don’t have class this Thursday, and your proposal for your midterm project is due next Tuesday. Have a great rest of your week!”

Derek doesn’t open his eyes as Celeste’s voice breaks the utter stillness of the room, but he does quickly close his legs and lower his arms. His cock is still aching, still pulsing, and he miserably drops his head into his hands as he waits for the class to empty. 

“That looks uncomfortable.” Cracking one eye open, he glances up at Celeste, whose expression is neutral. She nods at the bathroom in the corner of the room. “Go take care of yourself. We’ll talk after.”

Normally he’d be too embarrassed to take advantage of the offer, but Derek figures he’s far past humiliation at this point, and he’s so hard it hurts. When he finally makes it to the bathroom he shuts the door, wraps his fist around his dick, and gives in to the overwhelming need to tug. 

He has one hand braced against the wall, his head dropped until his chin is almost digging into his chest, and he can see the gleaming drops of pre-come as they pearl up from the slit in his cockhead. It’s an angry red and Derek is chasing sweet relief as he strokes rapidly, his legs spread, and he allows himself to descend fully into thoughts of Stiles behind him, gripping his hips as he pumps forward, slamming Derek into the wall. His legs tremble as he gets closer, and he drops his forehead against the arm pressed to the wall, working his hips, fucking harder into his fist.

When he comes it’s not with the shout that he’s dying to release, but with a low, hard grunt, accompanied by shuddery jerks of his hips as he rides out his orgasm. Come streaks down the wall and only now, when his head is clear, does he finally feel tendrils of mortification snaking over his sweat-sheened skin. Grabbing a fistful of toilet paper, he hastily wipes up the evidence of his lack of control.  

Derek exits the bathroom, casting a sheepish glance at Celeste. His cock is soft again, and she spares it a mere flicker of a glance to ensure he’s relieved himself before gesturing for him to join her on the couch.

“Is this going to be an issue?” she asks without preamble, and Derek winces.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, and she nods, as if she expected nothing else. “You know this isn’t like me, Celeste. It’s that kid…”

“Stiles?” He nods. “I knew there was something there the first week Stiles was in class. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and for the first time, I saw you respond. It’s okay to be sexually attracted to him, Derek. He’s not your student. There are no power issues at play here.” Her soft voice firms up. “But I can’t have you getting hard every class. I can’t have the students trying to focus on drawing when you’re getting wet for one of their classmates.”

Shame spirals through him and he nods. “I’m so sorry, Celeste. I won’t let it happen again.”

She pats him on the knee before rising, and he follows suit. “I know you won’t, Derek. You’re a professional. But if you need me to find someone else for the rest of the semester, I can do that. If you want me to talk to Stiles about switching to a different class time, I can do that, too. Just let me know.”

He’s already resolved that he won’t let his problem affect Stiles’ schooling, but he nods anyway, and doesn’t step back when she dips in to give him a quick squeeze. 

When he steps through the door to the classroom, he’s shocked to see Stiles waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall but nervously biting into his lower lip. Derek has seen Stiles a total of three times, but it’s already an endearing habit he’s familiar with.

Stiles opens his mouth, hesitates, seems to weigh what he wants to say, then blurts out, “Your cock is a work of art.” 

If Derek thought he was shocked before, it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. He’d had an instantaneous reaction to Stiles, but it had never crossed his mind that it might be because he’s Derek’s soulmate. It’s also a stunning realization that despite how prominently Stiles has featured in his fantasies, this is the first time they've ever spoken to each other.

Anxiety mounts in Stiles’ features the longer Derek stays silent, staring at him, until finally Derek sighs, and chuckles. “So you’re the reason my sisters have been making dick jokes at my expense my entire life.”

Stiles’ already-large Bambi eyes grow wider. “That makes so much more sense now.”

Derek snorts. “I should be angry at you for cursing me with that soul mark for the past twenty-six years, but for some reason I can’t make myself regret it.”

Stiles lifts himself away from the wall, shouldering his backpack and hanging onto the strap with both hands. “If it makes you feel any better, every time my dad saw mine he shook his head and sighed. Sometimes he rubbed his hand over his face.”

“I would take that over constantly looking at my parents and see them wondering if I was going to end up getting arrested for public nudity or something.” Stiles snickers and Derek falls into step with him easily, naturally. “I’m Derek.”

“I know.” At Derek’s sideways look, he grins sheepishly. “I may have asked around about the hot model in Professor Brighton’s class. One of the people in my physics class took this class last semester and told me I’d have better luck getting into a lizard’s pants, if lizards had pants, which they don’t. But the point still stands. He said you were completely professional and turned down the few students who flirted.”

“I did,” Derek acknowledges. 

“So when you kept getting hard in our class it totally threw me,” Stiles continues, as if Derek hadn’t spoken, and he tries not to blush. “I mean, I didn’t actually  _ see _ you get hard last week, but the way your eyes drifted shut and your lips parted like you were silently groaning, and your eyebrows pulled together, it was pretty clear you were getting off on  _ something _ . Plus your ass muscles kept tensing, and Jesus fuck, that was a glorious sight, I have to tell you.”

Derek bites back a sigh. He’d thought that session, at least, he’d looked completely normal. Apparently not.

“When the same thing happened today but, like, a million times worse, I knew I had to say something,” Stiles finishes. “Although to be fair, I only went into it hoping maybe you’d be interested in hooking up. I didn’t expect to get a soulmate out of the deal.” He grins, bright and shining, and Derek senses that that smile is going to be his downfall in a number of ways.

“I’m going to have to drop out of being the class model for the rest of the semester,” he realizes aloud, and Stiles frowns at him. “I’m not going to be able to make it through a class with you staring at me and  _ not _ get hard.”

“Sure you will.” Stiles handwaves the objection away as if it’s as thin as smoke. “We’ll just have the most acrobatic, athletic sex possible before every class. That way your dick will be too exhausted to even think about standing up and saying hi.”

Derek wants to admonish him for being so presumptuous, but considering how hard he’d come not fifteen minutes ago, he’s not about to object to getting Stiles’ cock in him as quickly as possible.

\-----

“As quickly as possible” turns out to be three hours later, and only because Stiles has another class. Derek eats lunch with him at the student union and they catch each other up on the basics of their lives. It doesn’t escape Derek’s notice that Stiles never refers to his mother, only his father, and it’s clear there’s a story there. He doesn’t expect to hear it during their first conversation, but he makes a note to remind himself later.

He tells Stiles about Laura and Cora, about his parents, about his shitty relationship history. He tells Stiles how much he always hated his soul mark because of the way teachers would look at him, and other students would make fun of him, and how people would look at him with interest as he got older, like they hoped to get to judge for themselves. He explains that other parents wouldn’t let him come to their kids’ birthday parties because he was always the source of inappropriate conversation, and he was eventually asked to wear a wrist cuff to keep the words hidden from the world. 

Stiles looks crestfallen by the time Derek finishes, but Derek is already head-over-heels for his soulmate and can’t stand the stricken expression. He reaches out for Stiles’ hands, cupping them in his own, and says fiercely, “I wouldn’t trade any of it if it meant having someone else for a soulmate.”

A broken laugh escapes him. “You don’t even know me, Derek. How do you know I’m worth it?”

Derek studies him, the outwardly-confident boy who’s already begun to let Derek see some of his inner cracks, and he falls for him a little more. “Because you’re my other half,” he says simply. “That’s what soulmates are. We’re two halves of the same whole, we complement each other and fill in the empty spaces the other has. For some people it’s platonic, but I think it’s pretty clear that for us, it’s anything but.”

Stiles’ throat works as he swallows, and Derek can feel himself stirring again. “I want to take you home right now, but I can’t afford to miss my next class,” he gripes, voice low and rough as he slips his fingers between Derek’s. Derek squeezes them. “I have a test on Thursday and this is our review session. Would you be willing to wait for me?”

“Always,” Derek replies honestly, and he doesn’t realize what he’s said until Stiles’ face softens, and he leans across the table to brush his lips over Derek’s. It’s not a passionate first kiss, but it’s powerful, and Derek sinks into it, relishing the feel of Stiles’ mouth on his. “I could sit in on the class with you, if you want,” he offers when Stiles pulls away and sits back down.

“Yes,” Stiles says immediately, and Derek chuckles. “I don’t even care if you distract me.”

So Derek does, nudging Stiles’ foot with his, reaching out and taking his left hand while Stiles continues to type with his right, tracing patterns on his palm with one rough fingertip, and Stiles doesn’t complain once. In fact, his smile is so beaming that Derek’s surprised his professor doesn’t mention it.

“Do you have a roommate?” Stiles asks lowly when class is over and they’re exiting the auditorium, hand-in-hand.

Shaking his head, Derek gives him a dark, private smile. “I live alone,” he informs Stiles, whose expression mirrors what Derek expects his own looks like. “Do you want to follow me back to my place, or do you want to ride with me?”

Stiles opens his mouth, thinks better of what he was going to say--and Derek can easily guess what that was going to be--and finally says, “If you don’t mind bringing me back to campus later, I’d like to go with you.”

Derek has heard stories of people meeting their soulmates before, obviously, and he’d always chalked up the sappy romanticism to being newly in love, to people with stars in their eyes and overflowing with relief that they’ve found their one person. He’d never put much stock in it.

Now, as Stiles watches him with patient eyes and an expectant grin, he knows exactly what all of them had been trying to tell him. He wants to tell Stiles that he’ll always be welcome to go wherever Derek goes, but he’s not generally the sappy type, and the words stick in his throat. “If you want to come back to campus, I’ll bring you,” he says instead, and Stiles is sharp, because he clearly doesn’t miss the implied offer to stay as long as he likes.

“We’ll see,” Stiles murmurs instead, grinning slyly. “I’m not easy to please.”

“Then I’ll have to work extra hard,” Derek murmurs back, and Stiles lets out an audible groan.

The drive to Derek’s apartment is quiet, both of them tense with anticipation. Derek knows he’s not interested in small talk when something much bigger is building, and is going to overwhelm them in mere minutes. He’s not sure why Stiles is quiet; he’s already gotten the impression that his soulmate is a talker. They’ll balance each other nicely, he thinks.

They’re not even fully in the front door when Stiles pivots and pushes him against it, slamming it shut behind them, and then his lips are on Derek’s, his tongue is in Derek’s mouth, and the taste of him is intoxicating. Derek fists his hands in Stiles’ messy hair, relishing the feel of his fingers twining through the thick strands and tugging gently, and Stiles tips his head back, a moan bubbling up and out of his throat, and Derek bites it, following the sound with his tongue until his lips are covering Stiles’ again and they can’t stop kissing, can’t stop and pull away from each other and  _ breathe _ , and Derek is going light-headed, and it’s all because of Stiles. Everything is because of Stiles.

Stiles whimpers under Derek’s mouth, digs his fingertips into Derek’s shoulders, clutches at him, and his cock is hard against Derek’s hip. “I want you to fuck me,” Derek gasps once he finally manages to tear his mouth from Stiles’. “I've been fantasizing about it for the last week.”

“I'm so down for that,” Stiles promises, voice raspy, and he rubs his dick over Derek's stomach. “Can I eat you out, too?”

Derek's cock is hard and leaking again, but this time he loves it. He twitches against Stiles’ hip. “Fuck, yes. You can do anything you want to me.”

It's a rash declaration, but oddly, Derek already trusts him. There's a feeling of rightness, of completion, with Stiles that he's never experienced before. With anyone else it would be too much too fast, the emotional intimacy even more so than the physical, but Derek doesn't even question it now. Stiles is his soulmate, and he feels the truth of it down to his core. 

Stiles pushes at his shirt, tugging it up his chest until Derek takes over and strips it off while Stiles changes direction and yanks impatiently at the button on his jeans. He's only just barely managed to get it undone and the zipper tugged down before he's dropping to his knees and taking Derek's cock into his mouth, licking at the slit and moaning around the spurt of salty pre-come. 

Derek curses, slipping his hands back into Stiles’ hair and massaging his scalp while Stiles sucks him down. Stiles has a hand around his shaft, pumping him as he makes encouraging noises in his throat, and Derek can't think, he's just driving forward. The head of his cock pushes into the back of Stiles’ throat, and he'd apologize and stop except for the fact that Stiles is swallowing around him, working his tongue over the thick vein in the underside of his dick, and looks completely blissed out while doing so. 

He can feel the need to come rising up and he tugs at Stiles’ hair gently. Stiles pulls off of him with a wet sound that makes Derek's toes curl, and his chin and mouth are shiny with saliva. “I was going to come,” Derek explains, his voice rough, and Stiles shrugs. 

“You could have come down my throat and I would have loved it. And then by the time I was done eating your ass, you'd be hard and ready to come again.”

Another spurt of pre-come dribbles from the tip of his dick and Stiles dips in, licking it off with a broad sweep of the flat of his tongue. Derek shudders. “Stop talking and just do it,” he bleats, and Stiles winks. 

While he begins to strip off his clothes, he gestures at Derek to head for the bedroom. Derek leads the way, his ass clenching in anticipation, and Stiles smacks it with a gleeful little grin. Derek's dick is so hard it aches. 

“Get on your hands and knees,” Stiles commands in a wicked tone, and Derek drops to the bed without question. He spreads his legs to give Stiles easier access, and also to support himself better. 

Stiles doesn't waste time before pulling Derek's cheeks apart, leaning in and dragging his tongue over Derek's clenching hole. He moans, low and long, at the press of Stiles’ tongue inside his rim. “Fuck, Stiles,” he cries out, voice breaking on Stiles’ name. 

He can feel the smile against his hole, feel it grow wide before disappearing again, and then Stiles buries his tongue deeper, licking with powerful strokes. One of Stiles’ fingers joins his tongue, then another, fucking into him roughly as Stiles feasts on him. 

Derek's practically sobbing as he reaches down to fist his cock, but before he can even get his hand on it his hips spasm and he spurts all over the bed. He comes in long bursts, leaving thick white ribbons on the dark blue sheets. 

Stiles gently pulls his fingers out of Derek's ass. “Watching you come apart is officially my new favorite thing,” he says in wonder, and Derek chokes on a laugh that sounds like it's been scraped over broken glass. 

“Fuck me.” He's practically begging, but he has no pride now. 

Stiles frowns. “You just came, Derek. You're going to be sensitive as hell for a few minutes.”

“I don't care,” he growls, thrusting his ass back. “I want you in me.”

“Your wish is my command,” Stiles responds glibly, and he glances around for a second before Derek understands. Yanking the nightstand drawer open, he fishes around for the lube for a second before finding it, then hands it over. 

His wish from the previous week is fulfilled when Stiles’ long, slim fingers press into his ass, dripping lube and squelching noisily. Derek almost pulls away from the intense pressure; Stiles is right, he _ is  _ too sensitive, but he needs it so badly he can't bring himself to care. 

Stiles works him open, murmuring words of encouragement until his hole is stretched to the point that he can comfortably take Stiles’ cock. Derek gasps softly when the fingers ease out of him, only to be replaced by the blunt pressure of Stiles’ cockhead. 

When Stiles sinks into him, Derek groans, arching backward to take him deeper. His own cock is still soft, hanging between his thighs and swinging gently as Stiles pushes harder, filling him. “Jesus, Derek,” Stiles breathes, bottoming out and then holding still, the thickness of him creating a welcome, dense pressure in Derek’s ass. He clenches down on the dick splitting him wide open and feels his cock start to thicken and fill again. “I'm glad you already came once, because I'm not going to last.”

Derek thrusts backward, grinding into Stiles and feeling the rasp of pubic hair against his cheeks. Those long fingers wrap over his hips, biting into his flesh, and Stiles slides out slowly before thrusting back in with one sharp motion. Derek cries out as he repeats the action, picking up speed every time. 

By now Derek's dick is throbbing, pre-come sliding down the shaft, and he finally gets his hand on it. He grits his teeth as he strokes himself through every thrust of Stiles’ hips, pushing the head of his cock through the tight ring of his fist. 

“Fuck, Derek, I can't hold on anymore,” Stiles grunts, and after a couple more thrusts Derek can feel the warm rush of Stiles’ release filling him. Stiles continues to stroke forward until he goes soft, then eases out of him. Derek mourns the loss immediately; it leaves him feeling empty. 

It's quickly followed by the sensation of warm come spilling from his ass, dripping down the backs of his thighs, and it almost undoes him. Derek's head drops and his fist flies, working his cock rapidly as the warning signs of his impending orgasm begin to snake up his spine.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Stiles breathes behind him, the words whispering across the curve of his ass, and then he sinks his teeth into Derek's cheek. Without giving Derek a moment to recover, he scoops up his come and pushes it back into Derek's ass, his fingers sliding through the mess and slipping into him easily. 

A groan bursts from Derek's chest and he arches backward, clenching down on those twisting, thrusting fingers that he hasn't been able to get out of his mind for a week. Stiles smiles against his skin and scissors them, then curls them and pushes back until he hits Derek's prostate. Derek jerks and shudders, Stiles keeps stroking him, and Derek has to turn his face into his shoulder, biting down on it as the overwhelming, blinding pleasure shoots through him. Come spills over his palm and through his fingers, and his grip goes slippery as he tries to fuck into it through the residual tremors. 

When he's thoroughly fucked out and so oversensitive he can't stand to be touched for another second, he finally lets go of his cock and drops down onto the bed. Stiles follows suit, grabbing his come-covered hand before snuggling up against his chest. 

Derek watches in amazement as Stiles brings his hand to those full lips and takes Derek's index finger between them. His warm tongue curls around the finger, licking the come from it and cleaning it thoroughly before moving on and doing the same with his middle finger, then ring, then pinkie. Stiles doesn't break eye contact with him the entire time, and there's a low-key thrum of arousal in his belly. 

“If I hadn't come four times today already, I'd have you on your back in another few minutes,” he rasps, and Stiles blinks. 

“Four times? Did you have a double jerk-off session before class?”

An embarrassed half-smile twists his lips. “Once before class. Once right after.”

Stiles laughs, hard. “You fucking got off right there in the classroom?”

“No,” he protests. “It was in the bathroom attached to the studio.”

Stiles ducks his face under Derek's chin, pressing it to his throat, and Derek's body trembles from the force of Stiles’ laughter. “We've already established I have no control around you,” Derek grumbles petulantly. “I should have known you were my soulmate that first day.”

Propping himself up on his arms across Derek's chest, Stiles peers into his eyes. “I used to make fun of people when they met their soulmates, because oh my  _ God  _ do they act like the most obnoxious, sickening lovesick idiots. I kept telling myself it had to be the thrill of finding their soulmate.”

Derek snorts. “Same.”

“But today is the first time we've actually spoken and I feel like I've known you my whole life,” he continues. “It's a total fucking cliche. I had no idea it was real and not some Hallmark-and-Hershey’s-fueled conspiracy.”

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, holding him close and feeling like everything in his life has slotted into place. “We have to promise not to be one of those obnoxiously sappy couples,” he tells Stiles, who scoffs.

“Oh  _ hell _ no. I had to put up with this shit from literally every person I know who’s met their soulmate, and I am shoving it back in their faces tenfold. I am going to be the most grossly overaffectionate lovesick idiot they’ve ever  _ seen _ .”

Dropping his head, Derek buries his grin in Stiles’ hair. “I can live with that, too.” Shifting, he groans at the way his body aches from their strenuous activity, and embarrassment ripples through him as he recalls just what they’ve been up to in the recent past. “I just realized you spent this entire time pleasing me. I didn’t do anything for you.”

Stiles pulls away from Derek’s grasp and quirks his lips ruefully. “You did everything for me, Der.” Derek quickly decides he loves the new nickname. “Besides, we can consider it my apology.” Derek quirks a brow at him, and he sheepishly offers, “Considering I’m the reason your sisters made dick jokes at your expense your entire life. And you had to walk around with that traumatizing soul mark.”

Leaning up, Derek finds Stiles’ mouth with his own, giving him a tender, lingering kiss. “You know what? That soul mark is the second best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A sly grin appears. “Second best, huh? What’s the first best?”

Derek gives him a serene look before saying, “Your dick. It’s a work of art, too.” He laughs when Stiles pinches him, squirming away, which is the beginning of an epic tickle fight. 

Derek has imagined on many occasions what it would be like to meet his soulmate, but he’d never come close to imagining this. He'd hoped for someone he's compatible with, someone he'd want to come home to every night, someone he'd want to have children with. He'd thought of contentment, of happiness. He'd had no idea what the reality of it would be like. 

He'd never imagined someone like Stiles. He'd never imagined there was someone out there who would literally be perfect for him. 

“We're going to be really happy together, aren't we?” Stiles asks, reading his thoughts. The tickle fight has ended and they're relaxed into each other, with Stiles half-sprawled over Derek's chest. 

Derek smiles down at him. “Yeah. We are.”

**Author's Note:**

> We all know barebacking with someone you've just met is not a good idea. Safe sex is smart sex, use condoms, get tested. But in fic it's hot and that's what I wanted to write, so I went with it. This has been a PSA.


End file.
